A/N: Well, this is just how I would like the Big Reveal to go. Of course, since I have no ownership of the BBC or Merlin, and no mind control over the producers/writers/actors/etc (and I take no credit for the characters/plot of Merlin), this will probably never happen...

SEASON 4 SPOILERS

"I want you…I want you to go find this Emrys and –"

"What? Uh, no, I don't –"

"Merlin, please. I know magic makes you uncomfortable, but –"

"Arthur! No! I don't want to go. I want to stay by your side."

"Merlin, you will go."

"But –"

"Merlin."

"Yes, sire."

And just like that Arthur sent Merlin off, in the quiet of dawn, into the rising sun – mounted on one of the finest horses and followed by a spare mount. He had been considering such a thing for a long time – he kept hearing of Emrys, of this, this druid protecting him. Him, King Arthur! And, Arthur found himself unable to accept such a thing – secretly protected for years? The question seemed simple: where was this Emrys? And the solution: ask him about all this.

Besides, what Morgana had said about magic, about Arthur, well…Arthur truly did not want to become his father, as much as he wanted to emulate him at times. No, he could look past magic as evil – he simply had to look at Gaius, or even, perhaps, remember Will.

So, he would parley with the druids; perhaps a peace could be found between Camelot and their peoples – one from which they could both benefit. And there was only one person Arthur knew he could trust.

There was no one else he could send. Though Merlin was his manservant, he had been born in Ealdor; he was not truly a subject of Camelot, as much as he swore to always stay at Arthur's side. Loyal little idiot. Besides, Gaius was too old to be traipsing through woods and over mountains. Any of the knights would be seen as a threat; Merlin, well, Merlin was a simpleton, a fool. None of the druids would be threatened by him.

Arthur found himself looking out windows whenever he had the chance – when he stretched after a long morning of reports, when he was pacing during frustrating council meetings. His eyes always found the courtyard, the main gate.

It had only been a few weeks since Merlin had left, but Arthur found himself waiting for his return already. He had received no word from Merlin – no note, no scrap of tunic – he had nothing.

"Greetings, sire. I see you found my leech tank."

"Uh, yes, nasty little things. Gaius, have you, well…"

"Had any word from Merlin? No, sire, I have not."

"Surely, with your contacts, you must have heard something. Did he manage to find the druids?"

"I…I have heard nothing of Merlin; I apologize."

"What of Emrys then? Any word there?"

"He, yes, Emrys is traveling, sire. Always on the move."

"Ah, good. Just, uh, keep me informed?"

"Of course, sire."

Guinevere was requested to meet with the rulers of the Kingdoms to the South. Arthur let her go, with no great regret. He still was wary with her – their passion had faded as time passed since the battle and struggle for Camelot. He found things were not as they had been, that first week they were wed.

He did not often watch the road south – the one she had taken. Not as often as the road east.

My dear Arthur,

The meetings have gone well. I received an invitation to remain here for the winter season – to return late spring, or perhaps early-on summer.

I believed you would agree this is a good thing for us; we both need the time to adjust to my new position, I believe, and so I agreed to stay. Be well.

Always yours,

Guinevere

It was quiet in the castle, empty. Arthur spent his evenings before the fire, watching the flames dance and listening to the wood pop. His chambers were dark behind him, void of the scuffling of well-worn peasant boots and the rustling of sheets as the bed was remade again just for a few more moments of companionship.

It was cold, there in his chambers.

Merlin had always kept the rooms warm. He had always known when to adjust the fire – it seemed – for even when the temperature dropped suddenly, Arthur had found his chambers properly heated and Merlin seated at the table, grinning at him.

There, in his cold chambers, there were moments Arthur still doubted himself – as they rebuilt, as the people returned to the lower town warily. Moments he still doubted that he could become the king they all desperately needed now.

And he would draw Excalibur and sit quietly alone as he polished or sharpened the blade. And he would hear Merlin's voice in his head, over and over, saying 'You are the true king of Camelot.'

And his doubts went away.

"Tough day there, princess?"

"We can go again, Gwaine."

"I think we – and by we, I mean I – have had enough for one day."

"I don't know…perhaps some mace work. My mace, Mer–"

"Only squires here, Arthur."

"Yes, of course."

"You miss him."

Arthur found himself working the knights harder and harder, spending more time out of the training field and less in his chambers. Arthur's gaze would fix on the weapon's rack, where he would have been, if he were there.

Leon came before him, one evening, and gently confronted Arthur, as was his way. The man did not speak of them – neither him nor her; he danced around every topic imaginable – Gwen, Merlin, Morgana, Lancelot, Agravaine, Uther – but he managed to say enough. That Arthur was too stressed, that the knights were worried for him. They decided a hunting trip would be best, to get away from Camelot, just for a few days. They would take a few of the younger squires – it took at least three boys to perform all the chores Merlin would have done.

It was there in the woods they found one of the druids. The man was surprised to see them, surprised and frightened. Only Arthur's assurance he would be harmed in no way calmed the druid.

When he was quiet and sitting before the fire, Arthur found himself sitting across from him and, without even a conscious thought, was asking, "Have you any knowledge of a man named Emrys?"

The druid's eyes widened as he looked up at Arthur and he quickly looked away. "What reason have you to ask after him?" His tone was wary as he replied, his eyes fixed on a spot in the flames.

"I…" Arthur started, voice soft in the evening air, "I sent a, a friend to speak with Emrys. I have had no word of his well-being."

They sat in silence for a long moment and Arthur felt the druid's eyes on him. Looking up, he met the other's gaze and remained still. The man's gaze was searching, strong, unflinching before Arthur's unblinking one. He appeared to find something in what he saw, for his shoulders eased from their tense positions slightly and the man opened his mouth to speak.

"Merlin is well," he said, equally as soft as Arthur's words had been. The knights all froze from their activities around the camp and Arthur knew they were all staring at the man. "He will return to you, King Arthur."

Arthur's mouth fell open, just slightly, and his brow furrowed. "Uh, what – you…you know of him?"

A smile was all the response he received and, seemingly between one breath and the next, the druid disappeared into the woods around them. Leon led the men out to search for him.

Arthur sat there before the fire and felt a smile come to his lips, curving up his cheeks and reaching his eyes.

"S-sire! Sire, I –!"

"Deep breaths, boy, and then you can speak."

"Sire, I bring word from the first outpost. There's a – well…Sire, it's, it's terrifying!"

"What? Speak quickly, squire. Leon, call the council – now!"

"The druids, Your Majesty. The druids have formed a, a column, a procession! I've never seen anything like…and they march on Camelot, my Lord!"

"How far?"

"Two days' ride – I pushed my mount to make it in one. But, sire, it's terrible…"

"Shall we prepare for siege, sire?"

"No, Leon – I think he's finally coming home…"

"He, Arthur?"

"Yes."

Arthur had watched the column approach the city – row upon row of men on foot, great numbers of riders, a few wagons, a carriage. Banners and banners – ones none had ever seen – filled the air above them. Flashes of blue and red and gold. Of green and brown and black.

But, the same emblem on them all.

Of a bird, wings spread in flight.

The soft dirt path they trampled – freshly wet from the first spring rain – quickly was pressed to mud. Yet, their speed did not change.

And, on the wind – songs and chants the like of which none could remember ever hearing.

Arthur stood at the foot of the stairs, the whole of the court spread out behind him as was customary to greet foreign dignitaries. There was nothing customary about this, Arthur thought. He knew there were many behind him who feared the druids approaching were of Morgana's kind – desiring the ruin of Camelot and the death to any loyal to the Pendragons. But, he, somehow, knew differently.

He waited as the sound of feet on cobblestone grew louder and louder, joined by the ringing tones of hooves on stone. The chanting songs grew in volume until the first of the druids breached the courtyard.

And the song abruptly ceased.

The entire court seemed to suck in a deep breath, and Arthur found himself doing so along with them. The druids who approached were wearing the customary browns and greens of their kind, but Arthur thought the clothes seemed finer. Perhaps that was a trimming of gold he spotted on that cloak, or maybe there was a hint of fine fur along the hood of that other one.

The banners were spread throughout the procession and Arthur knew not what to make of them. Did this Emrys take the form of a bird as his symbol? Arthur recalled Cornelius Sigan had been obsessed with the likeness of a crow – maybe all powerful sorcerers chose some bird as their mark.

As he watched the silent march before him, Arthur noted the druids were splitting into two columns, lining the courtyard and forming a path from the drawbridge to Arthur. . He was struck with a memory, a memory of a young druid boy he had saved from fear of execution. Arthur began to wonder after him, after Mordred, when there was a clatter of hooves and the riders appeared.

They approached Arthur quickly and he pulled his absent gaze from the cloaked man to study them. The fore-riders appeared just as the rest, but the final ones to arrive were markedly different.

Free of cloaks, the two men and two women rode with their heads held high, their gazes fixed on Arthur. Their clothes were of the highest quality and Arthur suddenly thought one of them had to be Emrys. The man with the grey hair, perhaps? Or, Arthur may have been wrong in thinking him a man and maybe Emrys was the red-headed woman with the flowing hair and scowl marking her features.

Just as he was thinking this, however, Arthur's gaze fell on the carriage that followed the four. This – this was where Emrys was, surely. The carriage was finer than any Arthur had laid eyes on; it was made of the finest quality wood, surely, and painted with delicate swirls of gold and silver. Curiously, however, all the shutters were firmly shut on the windows and door. There was no way to spy the inhabitant from the outside.

The riders reigned up just to Arthur's left and only the carriage remained to stop before him. He took a deep breath as the coach dismounted and unbolted the door.

And Merlin stepped out. His breath left him quickly.

But, not Merlin as he had left.

No, Merlin was clothed in a fine robe of blue velvet, and beneath wore a red jerkin of silk, surely, and leather breeches perhaps finer than Arthur's own. Arthur's eyes fell to his boots, however, and he found the same old, patched ones Merlin had been wearing still on his feet. And, there, around his left wrist, Arthur could now see the man's infamous red neckerchief.

A sense of relief flooded through Arthur – he was fine, he was safe, he was here again – and something fluttered in his stomach. The only time he had felt such a thing had been the moment he had met Gwen's eyes and decided to marry her again. With a minute shake of his shoulders, he brushed the feeling aside and glanced up at the carriage's darkened doorway.

"Well, Merlin, budge over so Emrys can get out," Arthur called, waving his hand at the man.

Merlin suddenly went pale and he stared at Arthur. His gaze slowly shifted to the group of the stairs, and then the castle behind them all. He turned and, mouth flapping open and shut, gestured at one of the riders.

The man dismounted and approached, bare head catching the sunlight and reflecting it into Arthur's eyes. He blinked and watched as Merlin whispered to the man – arms waving wildly. Turning his head, he was able to catch snippets of Merlin's whispers.

"You said…meeting the elders of….why are….this is Camelot!"

"It is time," the man said in reply, voice calm and clear over Merlin's ramblings.

"Stop saying…why is…everyone…even Kil...and Gaius already said that!" his final words were raised slightly, voice cracking. Merlin quieted after and stared at the man, chest heaving.

Arthur glanced at Gaius and found the man's eyebrow was already raised into his hairline. Clearly, he was surprised by Merlin's actions just as Arthur was.

"Mer-lin," Arthur called, voice ringing out in the quiet courtyard. "Where is he?"

Merlin glared at the druid and walked back the distance to stand before Arthur. He scratched behind his ear as his eyes slowly made their way to meet Arthur's. "Uh, well, sire, you see…" He paused suddenly, back straightening, and glanced up at the sky.

Arthur thought Merlin had even rolled his eyes.

When Merlin looked back down to him, Arthur was surprised to see a sudden meaning to his gaze – as if between the previous moment and this one, he had pulled all his confidence and strength to the surface. His shoulders settled slightly and Merlin's feet spread so his stance was more secure. Clenching his fists at his side, Merlin cleared his throat and said slowly, "Arthur, I am Em–"

His words were cut off by a sudden loud cheer from the druids – so sudden Arthur and most of the court jumped and glanced around at them all.

"I didn't quite catch that, Merlin," Arthur said slowly, peering around at the noisemakers.

Merlin shot a dark look at the druids and then shook his head slightly. Eyes meeting Arthur's again, he opened his mouth to speak. "I am Em –"

Again he was cut off by a rambunctious outcry from the surrounding druids. Many were even clapping their hands or stomping their feet. Arthur was taken aback by the sheer amount of elation and relief that seemed to be coming from their cries. At the same time, he was wondering what Merlin was attempting to say. Perhaps he was embarrassed by his failure to find Emrys, or too embedded in the druid culture to return to Arthur's side. He could possibly be an emissary for Emrys instead of bringing the man. Merlin could just be saying he was finally emancipated from being servant to the King – free to roam around the land and happy with it.

But, no, Arthur somehow – again – knew all of those were wrong.

Merlin turned around fully and stared at the gathered people until they grew quiet. When he spun back around, he shouted at Arthur, "I'm Emrys!" The courtyard was completely silent and the words echoed against the stone walls.

Arthur stared at him. Then, his eyes drifted up to the nearest banner and suddenly he understood. It was a merlin.

Then, he turned and looked at the knights. None of them seemed surprised, and Arthur noticed Gwaine leaning over to Leon and heard him say, "Was the princess really the only one who didn't know?"

He looked at Gaius and saw the old man had gone white with shock. His eyes were not on Merlin, however, but on Arthur himself.

Arthur turned back to Merlin and took in the young man's expression. He suddenly appeared resigned; his head was hung low so his chin touched his chest and his eyes were fixed on the ground. His fingers were digging into his thighs.

A faint smile came to Arthur's lips and he straightened his back as he turned to fully face the other man. There would be time for questions later, he decided suddenly. "Well, Merlin, I always knew there was something about you; I just couldn't quite put my finger on it…" he commented in an off-hand manner, eyes fixed on the same spot Merlin's were.

Only when he noticed the other man's head raising did he raise his own. There was a wary smile across Merlin's face and he returned it with a grin of his own. He extended out his hand and waited patiently for the shock to leave Merlin enough for him to raise his in reply.

As he gripped the other man's forearm, Arthur leaned forward slightly and added, "Welcome back, old friend."

Thanks for reading! Please review if you'd like :)